Money Can't Buy Everything
by penguinwholikesfire
Summary: Alfred is a billionaire who has more then enough money..but doesn't get the thing he truly wants. At a charity event he unknowingly bids on a Briton, and keeps him because of the amount he used just to get him. 2muchmoney!America w/ homeless!England USUK
1. WTF Did I just do?

The spotlight took center stage, with the announcer's arm emphasizing the items for sale. It was a charity event, for the homeless. The auction prizes were homeless themselves, and would stay at your home as long as you wished- if you even brought them home.

It was a sizable diner hall, filled to the brim with circular tables. Eight per seat, each one with at least a million at their easy disposal.

Alfred seat in the back, fiddling with his fork. His dad forced him to come to the event, 'To show the public you care, son!'. Matthew, Alfred's brother, came more willingly. Both were in tuxes, women hovering him. "Hey! Lady! Go away! We are trying to pay attention here!" The female was practically on top of the younger sibling, Alfred shooing the female away.

Not that the American would admit openly to anyone but...He prefer guys to chicks for that reason. His dad was leaning to the homophobic side- so only Matt knew. Luckily, he was the same way, and avoided the awkward moments.

"$1,000 ON THE BLOCK! WE HAVE A MALE, EARLY TWENTIES! BLONDE WITH EMERALD EYES! LADIES! YOU KNOW YOU WANT THIS!"

A couple bids shouted through the crowd. Alfred's attention was caught when he heard a distinctive Russian accent go though the room. "Commie Bastard.." The duo were sworn enemies since younglings- just a whack with the rattle too far. If it's completion he wanted- Ivan was going to get it.

"5 GRAND!" He slammed his hands down on the table, standing up.

'Ivan' nodded, and brought the price up to $6,000.

"$10,000!" He didn't even know what he was betting on- just wanted to beat the purple-eyed monster. Matthew was trying to calm him down, "A-alfred..d-don't do this.."

"15 THOUSAND MULLAS! DO I HEAR A 15,500?" The bidder shouted out, and it was raised again.

"$20,000!" Alfred shouted in, hopefully winning it.

A woman jumped in, voice shrill, "$25,000!"

"GOD DAMMNIT! $30,000!"

Ivan stood up, with the ever present smile.

"$50,000."

"60 GRAND!" He felt furious, how did the Commie think he could out pay this hero?

"70." Ever calm, never any other expression.

"75!" He could do a thousand more, boy his dad was going to be pissed! But the only thing that mattered was that he won.

The lady from before called in, "75, five hundred!"

Fuck it all!

"76 thousand! AND THAT'S FINAL!"

The bidder asked if anyone was going to go higher, and no one did.

Arthur Kirkland, who's body was up for the bidding, could only shrink back. He didn't feel like he was even worth a dollar in his own mind..but 76,000 dollars..? It killed him. His family at home kicked him out because they didn't see his worth either.

One less mouth to feed.

The reason he was even up there was out of a bet, who would rank more money if anything. He won, the Frenchman only got a couple thousand. The suit they forced him into magically got tighter and hotter. With each rising grand he felt himself get smaller and smaller- till the final prize shook him to his bones.

Alfred collapsed back into the chair, grinning to himself. The younger sibling could only stare in horror. How could his brother spend that much on a single human being...The Russian approached the twins, smiling at it all.

"Congratulations, Alfred. You just wasted seventy six **thousand** dollars on a man who doesn't even care for you. Say hello to your father for him." The taller man patted the smaller's back, and left the room.

What. The. Fuck. Did. I. Just. Do.

That thought hit him in the face, how was he going to make up that up to his dad. "Oh fuck, Matty I'm screwed.." He buried his face into his palms, what he would have to do just make it up.

It was all the Commie's fault.

Why he lost his first girlfriend, why his dad preferred Ivan to him, why he lost his virg- Whoa whoa, he didn't do that. But that monster would try to steal that too.

Because he stole eveeeeeeeeerything.

His prize of the night came up to him, with a bow on tied neatly on each eyebrow. All Alfred could do was laugh, and not even try to hide it. "Duuude, what happened to your face? Those thingys make me want to hug you to death!" Dumbfounded he tried to touch the caterpillars, but instantly shot down.

"Touch them and I'll cut off that cowlick of your's." The Brit barely knew the man and he was already icing insults at him. "NOT NANTUCKET!" Alfred shoke his new prize, crying (fake) on his shoulder. He groaned in defeat, this was going to be a memorable experience.

õ.õ~ ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ~õ.õ

Matty was busy with a bid, and what he bought was some stupid guy with long blonde hair. He was smarter with his money, spending no more then 5,000 on him.

Alfred thought if he was going to spend this much in someone, then he was going to have fun.

They newly found team came out bridal style, the man with the bows fighting the whole time about wanting to be put down.

In the ride back, the one who was carrying was past out on the Briton's shoulder. It took several punches to the chest to even get him moving- and not even fully out of the car.

"Artie.." He rubbed his face into the older man's chest, despite the forcing away. "What, prat?" 'Artie' snapped at him.

"I want you to sleep with me.-yawn monsters are gonna get me.." He leaned completely on him, eyes opened in little slivers.

The Briton blushed deeply till he heard the last part, then sighed. "Where's your room?"

Alfred pointed at the stairs of the mansion, then moved itself to the right. "You're a giant piece of a lard..I hope you know that." Arthur started up the stairs, making sure he hit each stair with his head. The only reason he hadn't ran out of the house once he was free of grasp, was the fact he owed the American his life.

They made it to the bed, and Alfie was tossed onto it, and speaking nonsense about junk foods. The American pulled the Brit into his strong hold, and was not allowed to move because of the bear hug he was in. Alfred intertwined his way in, themselves forming a knot out of string.

Arthur did not get a single wink of sleep that night.

All thanks to a certain American's dimwittedness.

õ.õ~ ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ~õ.õ

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I got this idea while watching TV, oh my, should I continue this?

'ttakebathesanyway!America and grumpyoldmanwhocan'tgetlaidbecauseI'mhomeless!England are always fun to write xD

It would be funny to see Arthur try to escape xD Then Alfred drag him back…oh boy.. ;D

Review! I need to know if I should continue this xD


	2. Slender Cats and Cows

I don't own Hetalia, but if I did..I wouldn't have to write a FF about these two.

But everyone who favorited/alerted and reviewed are epic. This is the only thing I can truly give you guys, so I hope you like this chapter..^^

õ.õ~ ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ~õ.õ

The Briton spent the night under the fat piece of American. Every time he tried to slip out of the entanglement, Alfred stuck to him closer. The bear arms could crush him at will, never letting him out of arms reach. The positions he went under. Once he was rolled on top of the American's chest, like a burrito.

He tried to eat him after that..Arthur was finally able to get some sort of shut eye, but he felt a nuzzle at his throat. Alfred's lips brushed across an important vein, and the Briton's eyes shot opened at the contact. Learning from experience that if he tried to wiggle away, then it would get worse. He felt them grow open, and teeth sinking into his skin. He barely knew the man! Arthur shoved him off with all his strength, which made him spiral off the bed, wrapped like a cocoon.

A soft 'mmm' sound followed the thud of the American hitting the floor. Arthur crawled to the edge, careful to make sure a arm wouldn't try to swoop him down. The stone hard green eyes peered over the edge, hands clutching the sheets. Alfred's drool covered a pillow, a darker white forming a half moon. He look oddly comfortable in the position, the pillow the new object of squeezing. His limbs hugged it, and the Briton gave his observation of the situation.

"Wanker."

A double check to make sure that the man wasn't going to wake up, which was confirmed with a loud snore. Before he was forced into bed with that lard, he loosened the tie to be able to breathe for the night. He ditched the tuxedo coat by the front entrance of the mansion.

Arthur slowly crawled over to the opposite of the bed, making sure not to make loud noises. The clock on the stand read '4:37' in green block digits surrounded by little American flags. Cocky for his nation, aren't we? He smirked at the sight. A little glowing hamburger in a socket illuminated the pathway to a large door, and he tiptoed to it.

It swung with a loud squeal, and his head whipped to see if the monster awoke. A prolong silence followed, and he took the chance to sneak inside. It was a large bathroom by his standards, a roman bath at the end of it. On the left wall was the porcelain sink and toilet, and a cabinet filled with things that didn't bother him at the moment.

Above the tub was hope. It was shaped in the form of a window, two feet in length and a foot in height.

If men could skip to freedom he would have done it.

But gentlemen don't do that.

Gentlemen _gallop_.

He climbed over the bathtub hesitantly. Then over to the edge, testing to see if it could hold his weight. It did, and put another foot, leaning on windowsill. No alarm so no beep when he lifted the glass- ever so gently. It produced no sound when it was opened fully.

Arthur pushed off the sill, adjusting himself accordingly to slip out. He easily got halfway out, head peeking out with a leg already out.

Freedom, so close, but so far way. He could even see the little rose bushes below him. The sun wasn't even up yet, the moon settling down below the horizon.

"So..Dude, if you liked such a workout in the morning you could have asked."

The Brit's blood ran cold, beginning at the sentence he uttered. Arthur moaned in defeat, and brought his leg back down. Like before he was careful with his moments, and turned to face his capturer.

"How did you know that I was leaving?" Arthur asked, arms coming over to cross themselves.

Alfred smiled, already with his glasses on. He yawned, and patted it down with his hand. The tie was draped under his collar, and the button up opened to expose his chest, covered in toned muscles. Arthur assumed he got rid of his pants after the Brit escaped to the bathroom, and his eyes were somewhat saved by the American flag boxers. What bothered him the most out of it was the deep lines under each eye, which didn't appear when the American was truly awake...Did this man actually work?

"Since you said..what was the word? Wanker? Why do you use big words?" Alfred patted at his curl, then back to his neck. "Do you wanna eat? I could ask Toris" He stopped, then adjusted his voice, "For a cup of tea, young fellow." In a British accent.

He remained silent for a couple moments to regain himself, and found a comeback. "Damn American prat, abusing the English language like it was a painting!" Alfred had left the room to find this 'Toris'.

He came out of the bathtub, carefully out of the bathroom. That wanker could be anywhere. Alfred seemed like the type to tackle you down in the most unsuspecting moments...

Leading himself out, trying to remember the positions of things. Every couple feet a small light fixture to keep the path clear. High ceilings helped his suspicions. It was endless, it could be seen better during the day..but it was only 4:50..

The wall was his guide, and step by step down the carpeted steps. He heard no breathing of other humans, because he heard some pans clanging further downstairs with some soft chatter. Both were below, the louder belonging to the American.

But he still felt a presence staring down his back. "A-Alfred..? Tor-ris?" He stuttered out, the lamps could only shine so far.

A pair of cerulean balls of light stared him down from the rafters, no body to hold them up.

The color inside were icicle on the outer rims, then a deeper color going into the center. The orbs didn't stop their aim on him. Arthur pressed himself against the wall, trying to distance himself from it. They bobbed closer, as if studying him for a meal.

"Oh lord, I don't need another thing trying to eat me today.."

Arthur face palmed, but kept an eye at the..things. Nothing looked removable to throw at it, and it could be bigger than him.

It moved its head gradually then paused when it was higher than before. His hands formed fists, and raised it up for a fight. Like hell he was going to surrender so early in the game. The orbs shrunk at the top and bottom, at angles that came together in between the blues.

"Ye gotta fight with me.." The Briton muttered, focusing on them. The orbs pulled back, then bounced up closer. It vibrated as the distance shrunk, the color becoming smaller.

It leaped off the rafter, and it crashed landed on the Briton. They crash landed onto the floor, the feline on top. The claws came out and it started to dig the knives into his cheeks. Arthur tried to fight it off with whacks, and shoves but without luck. Every time he touched the thick coat he slowed the counter-attack.

During it Arthur closed his eyes out of protection, and slowly opened them. A large tabby with a opaque coat took center place on his lap. It had a thick curly brown collar, and a pair of glasses. When he touched the spots, he found that the lenses were coincidental spots. A pair of cerulean eyes peered into the Brit's well-being, and body as whole.

This bit surprised him, the cat gently licked his face, and jumped off. If cats could smile, that one was grinning.

Soft thuds came up the staircase, and when 'Artie' looked up it was Alfred and 'Toris'. The other boy appear like a brunette, average height, and green eyes. What they said was different then his own was. Weaker, more subdued, perhaps this man has seen beyond his years. The Briton would have to ask him about that later.

"Yo! Art-Hero! Come here boy!" At the sight of his owner, the cat slipped himself between the American's legs. He picked up the cat and scratch behind his ears. The purring was loud, not low like many felines. "Where have you been little buddy? I missed yoou!" He gave 'Hero' a nuggy, "Checking out the competition?"

Competition? "A-Alfred, why did that..-narrows eyes at it- thing attack me?" He was in the process of regaining his own composer, while Alfred started to giggle. "Those bows..man.."

Hero came off the man's lap and approached the Briton. He took place on his lap, so the cat have a better chance. Arthur couldn't move out of shock because it tugged at the ribbons, undoing them. It came down like a feather, and landing in between them.

"W-why did your cat do that...?" He locked eyes with it, with a softer tint shining through. "He likes you! I mean look at how he is to you!" The feline already was curled on his lap, playing with a hem of his pant leg. It could be consider 'cute' if it wasn't for the fact it just attack him a couple minutes ago.

"Push him off, he'll get more hyper later. Toris made you" Alfred changed his accent to a British one, "Some tea!" He waved the Briton over, already down the steps to the kitchen. Not wanting to be alone again, or with that cat, Arthur stumbled after him. Hero was at the Brit's heals however.

The trail to the kitchen didn't have any light besides the rays leaking out. The American stopped in his tracks, with the everlasting beam of amusement. The smile could have been for anyone..but it brought up his own spirits to see it directed to the Briton. The past year felt like hell and back, but he couldn't exactly remember it at the moment..

"Coming?" Arthur snapped back to reality, "Almost there!" He responded back, increasing his pace to get inside.

It looked like everything in the home was at least twice the size average living space.

The scent of pancakes came to his nose first while Toris was busy at the stove top. Alfred was on the counter farthest from the door, with a bowl of cereal in his hands. The lazy eye was still in both.

"H-hello Mr. Kirkland, I hope you like Earl Grey.." He poured the steaming liquid into a ceramic mug, and handed it carefully to the British man. "It's hot!" The American chuckled within his sight range, this time turning around to the TV behind the kitchen.

"My favorite, thank you." Arthur took it, and sipped it till he stood next to the American. There was an open stool, and he took it.

The brunette man started to clean up his area, "Mr. Jones, I'll start the house duties."

"Call me Alfred! Mr. Jones is my dad!" He said it not really paying attention to the butler, but more to the cartoon characters on the screen. Arthur watched how things unfolded, and soon enough Toris left.

"When I finish we can go to the tree house in the back." Still distracted it seems.

Alfred slid the bowl into the sink, and yanked the Brit out of his chair. "Unhand me, you fool!" He fought back, but like always the American didn't care. Past the double doors, twenty feet of open grass, and an outdoor pool.

"You gotta climb now," He pointed up to the planks on bark. The small house was up on the top, ten by ten feet in size. It looked structurally sound..somewhat. This planet's star was starting to wake up, it's spreading arms trying to push himself up.

The Brit groaned, why was he forcing him to do this? Working on the previous day's sleep of four hours (thanks to a certain Frenchman), Arthur started to make his way up. Alfred was behind him, to make sure he didn't fall back.

The Brit repeated his 'escape' technique to get into the roomy space. An unmade bed in the corner, and various game activities connected to a flat screen.

He forced himself into a corner, and a drape covering a window. It appeared to be nailed into the aging wood. Alfred popped out of the entrance, and swung himself inside.

A couple lazy shuffles, and crashed on the bed. "If you are thinking of napping while I watch you, you are an idiot. Get up." The Briton walked over behind him, and gave him a couple nudges in the stomach.

With his foot.

Hard.

Besides a couple moans and grunts, the man had gone to sleepy land.

He was basically alone, and with useless games. The turning on system for it had too many remotes to fiddle with. The last thing he needed to do owe that fatass more money. Arthur drifted to a bean bag, and began to brainstorm.

_How could I pay that money when I don't own anything of value..?_

_The whole point of the fundraiser was to prevent situations like this!_

_The boy on that bed did not make that kind of money! If any at all!_

The Briton argued within himself till he lost consciousness.

An artic wind blew through the house (poor insulation). He shivered at the gust. "Mmn.." No jacket, so he stumbled blindly till he found the next heat source. It was thick and unmovable, as it should be. Arthur curled himself against it, and went back to sleep.

õ.õ~ ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ~õ.õ

Arthur felt movement, mainly at his eyebrows. The feeling those could give woke him up instantly, whacking at the attacker. "Cooomee onnn, we are gunna miss it!" The American twange rang through his ears. The Brit's eyes opened almost instantly, with another pair of cerulean orbs having the expression. Besides the slits to see, the rest was covered in black cloth. This could really scare anyone if the distance is only an inch or two between the pair.

"THE BLOODY HELL!" The Briton used as much force he could muster into the shove and sent the American flying.

"Calm your tits! We gotta go somewhere!" Alfred came closer, with a hand behind his back. The Brit gave him the wary eye, trying to back up further.

"It's not going to hurt.." The American cooed, the distance considerable smaller. The palm whipped out, with a soaking napkin. Arthur's emerald orbs widened at the napkin, "WH-at.." He couldn't finish the statement, the chloroform making his lids heavy.

õ.õ~ ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ~õ.õ

"Mmnn.." He rolled around, to see that he was in new clothing. The sound outside told him that he was in a moving vehicle, and the tint was too dark to see outside. Rubbing his hair, he sat up, at a certain cowlick came out from the driver's seat.

The American's was singing to random songs, all varying in genre. The window lacked the darker shade, and it revealed corn stalks on either side of them.

"Alfred," It took him a minute to realized that he was just kidnapped. "ALFRED, WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE WE!"

Calm as ever, "Dude, you sleep like a baby!" The Brit was about to strangle the man driving. "We are in a mysterious place, in the middle of nowhere. Speaking of this place, we are right…..here!" The car stopped, and a lot divided by a fence in front of them.

"You are bloody insane! I always knew something was wrong with you!" Arthur started to shout, and pointed his index. Alfred slapped his hand on the other's face, "Shh.. You're going to scare them."

The Brit pulled off the hand, "Who?" in a harsh whisper.

"The cows! If you want to stay at my house, you have to tip a cow!" The American pointed at 'Bessy' whom was grazing by.

The man kidnapped him to tip a cow. _A cow_.

Arthur didn't have much a choice in the matter, he had nowhere to live. With a stream of British curses and a sigh, he exited the car. "When I come back, I have the right to punch him in the face. Of course the idoit was grinning. An other's living expenses at his disposal, is so amusing." Sarcasm dripped down from every sentence.

He hopped over the fence, and gave a dirty look to the American. He was giggling, Arthur could hear it in his ears, the child-like chime. The cow 'Moo'ed', saying, I know you are there.

Another deeper sigh came, and the Brit hesitantly stroked the patterned skin. The cow didn't seem to mind- yet at least. Alfred was shooing him to push him further.

The Briton took a couple steps back, maybe about ten feet back. "That git."

He ran full speed at it, the wind pushing his hair back. Overly confident that he would at least get it on its side.

The impact was close to nothing, the cow barely moving a hoof; however, Arthur was curling on the floor, clutching his side. The Brit had his eyes sealed shut as if it could stop the pain. He heard the rustling of grass, and was gently picked up.

The last thing he hear before going back to sleep was the soft, soundless chuckles of laughter. The American said something low, more like for his own amusement.

"Dude, it's impossible to tip a cow…"

õ.õ~ ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ~õ.õ

Btw, Did you really see a cat jumping from the ceiling?

It could have been slender man C:

Or the cow tipping? Did you all think he was going to..rape him?

Dirty minds. Dirty minds.

Am I going to fast with their relationship? D; or should I speed it up?

Let's see which Alfreds and Arthurs appeared here:

_I'!England_

_Bloodyhellthereisacat!England_

_Iseewhatyou'redoing!America_

_I'!America_

_I'mhungryformexican!America (warning! It comes in cat form too!)_

WAIT! WAIT! WAIT! Should I continue my other story, Love Bug? Or let this one become my main priority?

Once again thank you for everyone who reviewed and favorite this, I hope this chapter did it some justice~

Review! Criticism is welcomed! =7=


	3. Stupid Americans

**EDIT: Oh jeeze...I feel stupid..I left my chapter plot in the chapter..-.- forget this change please.**

NOTE TO ANYONE WHO READS THIS:

I received a review that brought a valid point to this story- how it lacks ethics. How unreasonable it would be if you took the person you bid home. When I wrote the first chapter with any intention of continuing it. There was no plot, and some USUK tossed in.

The plot for this story done. Arthur comes home with Alfred because he doesn't want to become homeless again..as well, Artie will eventually explain why he didn't get his own share of money.

I don't own Hetalia! If I did, USUK wouldn't be so canon..eh. I like it anyway.

Sorry for the wait! ;;

* * *

><p>Alfred snuck into Arthur's room carrying a fishing pole with a spider dangling at the end. He slept in this house, why not have a little fun?<p>

The American paused in the doorway took take in Arthur's layout across the sheets.

The worry lines of his years were erased from existence, revealing his true age of twenty-three. Alfred was twenty-one, and the difference in body types was remarkable. The scowl he usually carries turned to a simple smile. Not a full on grin, but a small tug at the lips...it was truer then the smiles he would give as a sarcastic remark. The eyebrows didn't twitch, nor did they go to their normal angered state.

The curve of Arthur's back formed an 'S' and his arms cradling Hero. The cat appeared when he wanted too, if felines could have depression- he did. Toris suggested because of the lack of a partnership between owner and pet.

The American was slowly laughing to himself as he slid down the doorframe. Hero noticed and hissed at his owner, leaping out of the Brit's grasp. The feline knew trouble making was about to happen.

Alfred swung the spider above Artie's head, and landed softly in front of the Brit's skull. Wheeling it, so it came closer a couple centimeters every spin.

Hero took interest in the activity, sitting beside Alfred. They shared the same expression of joyous tease.

It crawled onto Arthur's hair, so he took a deep breathe in wards. He couldn't get caught so early- the fun hadn't happen yet!

His cheeks were getting pink from the amount of air still in his chest. It reached the edge of Arthur's forehead, causing slight twitching.

A gentle tug and Alfred's tongue stuck out in concentration. It was placed directly on the eyebrows.

Alfred stiffened instantly, his cat doing the same. Their eyes only seeing the body a couple feet away.

Arthur was stirring, raising his hand to touch it. At first it was gentle pats, then more urgent. He grabbed the spider's torso, eyes wide.

It flew across the room, stopping time for the time being. The spider's legs dangling, the American duo eyes trained on it. The human American saw his life flash between his eyes-

It plopped onto Alfred's nose, making a small snap of the frame.

Arthur sat up and narrowed his eyes at the helpless male.

"DAMN BRAT!" The Briton yelled on the top of his lungs, and the American's scurrying for dear life. The cat was right behind his owner, if not the first one out.

Alfred found Arthur on his couch by the kitchen. He chuckled, the Brit was holding Hero. The American tip toed till he was standing directly behind it.

Arthur felt and appeared flustered. The cat calmed him, on how it couldn't say a word. His focused on the flat screen a couple feet in front.

He silently took in air, and bended over. Alfred tilted his head, and blew it all out in the Brit's ear.

How he reacted was worth not playing Modern Warfare 3 for a week.

Arthur flew about a foot, and the cat hit the roof. The Brit landed on the other side of the couch, holding on for dear life with owl-wide eyes. Hero's claws dug into the ceiling, later only letting go by a bribe of burgers for the next month.

Alfred couldn't keep in the laughter, so he buckled on the floor, clutching his sides.

Arthur gathered his marbles, and threw a pillow to quiet the American. "Shut it!" A couple loud heaves later, "Okay, okay! Man that was priceless!" Alfred wiped an imaginary tear from the corners of his eyes.

"Sorry! But I had too! Jeeze! I should do that more often!" He relaxed, and headed over to the kitchen. "Whoa, we are up before Toris!" Alfred glanced down the hallway, and the Lithuanian man was coming down. "Never mind! Here he comes!"

The Brit got off the sofa, fixing his clothes. How he got in pajamas defeated him, but if it was Alfred...where could he hide the idiot's body?

"Toris changed my clothes I hope." Arthur came into the kitchen, and took his place leaning on a counter.

"I d-did. You went to go cow tipping with M- Alfred yesterday?" Toris smiled easily, remembering his own cow experience. The cow he chose...wasn't a cow, but a bull, Alfred and him ran for their lives from it. Now it was a funny memory, yet at the time it felt rather frightening.

The Brit took a deep breathes. "Yes, I passed out because of that idiot over there." Arthur nodded to Alfred, who was currently microwaving his breakfast. The servant knew of his Earl Gray in the morning by now.

"Hey, Artie lets head over to the lake! The water is too cold now but the indoor pool isn't finished yet! Then we can have lots of fun!" Alfred spoke over the munching of half a dozen waffles. "And Toris! You have to get the cat down from the ceiling."

"M- Alfred, may I ask why the cat is on the ceiling?"

The American smiled, and shrugged his hands. The whole time he looked at Arthur, eyebrows relaxed. "It wasn't me."

"ALFRED!"

The lake was located a couple miles from the mansion, the autumn breeze forcing them into coats. Alfred took a loaf of bread, and some cash. Arthur raised an eyebrow at it; they were only going the lake and park, right?

For some reason Alfred first choice was to wear sweats, but the Briton forced him to wear suitable clothing. "If we are going to be seen together with you like that, I would have asked the Frog for clothing advice!" Now the American had to wear a tee-shirt under his standard bomber jacket and jeans. He was most definitely not going to wear a pair skinnys; this British guy couldn't even spell 'grey' correct!

Both Toris and 'Artie' had the same clothing size. The Briton was mentally rejoicing. He wouldn't have to wear the rags Alfred wore every day! The American promised to order him clothes later in the day. So he was stuck with a green button up and black slacks. Because of the weather, Toris loaned him a coat to wear.

They went to the garage for the source of transportation. "Alfred! Why can't we walk there? It's a couple blocks, you need to lose some weight anyway." The American swung the door open, exposing the long line of vehicles on the wall. Starting from the forties to modern day. Cars, pick-ups, and motorcycles.

"Because- A-Alfred? Is that an old Harley?" He stopped in mid thought to admire the metal beast. In mint condition, the sleek vehicle for its long years. The grill in its prime condition, and a black paint job simmering under the florescent lights.

When he lived in England, Arthur learned how to drive a motorcycle. The roar it gave when the key signaled it, urging you to go forward. It felt like a simple joy. Each problem didn't require brain surgery on how to solve it; it required a few tinkers here and there.

Alfred didn't pick up on the drool coming down the Brit's lip, heading to the newer Kawasaki bike. It was small, but the size of the engine made up in its patriot-red frame. He swung his leg over it, turning on the engine. Arthur began to loath it for the fact it sounded more technical then raw electricity.

A hot pink object was tossed to the smaller one, landing in his arms. Arthur almost dropped it because of the attention to the bike were given. "You have to wear that, it's my only spare." The snickers could be even heard in the idiot's voice!

"Give me yours then, I might have been homeless but I still have pride!" Arthur spat back, storming over. He had half a mind to rip the pink cap in pieces. "Naw, dude. I'm kidding, I have other ones." Alfred laughter turned into chuckles, and his thumb pointed behind him. "Hurry up! I want to get there before the wrinkly people get there!" The mini-billionaire had the vehicle on, making small squeals with the breaks.

Arthur chose a simple black one. "Those 'wrinkly' people know more than you ever will!" He clipped it the buckles together. "Get off! I'm driving, so we don't get killed!" He waved his hand to motion it, but Alfred gave a bigger smile in his direction.

The defiance shone brighter in the baby blue orbs, mocking him from under the glass rims. "No way Jose! I'm driving it!"

"You're going to get us killed!"

"I'll tell Toris how you almost wet the bed!"

Arthur's eyebrows pulled down, and be huffed. "Damn American." He muttered before getting on the bike.

"Hold tight!" The garage doors rose up with a couple clinks, and soon were off.

By the second left, Arthur was holding onto the American for dear life. He buried his face into the bigger one's back, no one needed to see his face though out this.

"Here we are!" The Brit leaned to right to see where they arrived.

The space seemed to stretch for a couple acres, with a lake in the middle. Trees scattered themselves across the view, and a worn pathway leading into the park.

"I get that I'm a hot dude, but you need to let go." The chuckles produced small vibrations, and Arthur released him immediately, almost falling from getting out so quick. Alfred laughed more, and lent him a hand to get up. The Brit ignored it, and got up by himself. "I can do it without your help!" He patted himself down to get the dirt off the borrowed coat.

Like magic, the American was already at the path with a bag of old bread in his hands. Arthur scrambled to catch up while Alfred continued strolling. The stood side by side till they reached the pool of murky water.

Not a single cloud could be found in the sky, with minimal humidity. The branches couldn't hug their friend the water, but the bending of the branches said otherwise. Families of ducks maneuvered through the limbs, and never was one left behind.

"Watch this." The Briton could only see a side of the other's face, but he could pick up the smile though it.

Arthur planted his feet behind Alfred, whom was bending over, opening the bag.

The ducks paused in unison, eyes in the direct line of fire, food in sight. They swam quickly to the human's location, almost tackling each other over.

They attacked him for the food, quacking in delight. Some started to jump onto his lap, forcing him onto the ground. "Aaaaaaye! Guys! I know you've missed me! Georgia! Get out of my mouth Alaska!" He exclaimed, spitting out bird feathers. "You taste horrible!" Alfred appeared to have a time of his life while naming the birds, whose names were states. Stupid Americans.

Arthur wouldn't admit it, but how the ducks overwhelmed the younger male, brought a small chuckle. Alfred didn't push them off, laughing with the small ducklings. The quacks sounded like children's laughter, the innocence making it cheerful. The empty plastic bag flew a couple feet away and the yellow fluffs didn't move. They took to the American like another parent, drowning him in love.

When the ducks became tired, they jumped off to go back to their mothers. "How did you convinced Mother ducks to touch their children?" The Briton had moved to overlook the American, whom who initiated the eye contact. Arthur had stopped chuckling, but the evidence of amusement remained. "Food is the way to anyone's heart." Alfred sat up, leaning on his knees for support all while still looking at the piecing green orbs. "And those duck really like bread!" The smile grew in remembrance.

Alfred patted the ground beside him, motioning him to the ground beside him. The Briton gave a happy sigh, and sat beside him. The fowl swam in circles, the largest the leader of their troop. "It must be awesome to have a family like that, don't you think?" The American simpered; small pair of ducks was in an argument.

The British man was about to make a comment, but it died. After all, it was his own family that tossed him on the street. The memories haunt his sleep on what he did to stay alive. Remarkable he made it that long without going into drugs. Alfred didn't pursue the topic, his attention on the life on the pond.

The silence happening didn't feel awkward, not wanting to talk about family for either of them. Questions piled onto each other whenever he came in contact with the American.

_What was his family like?_

_Where did this money come from? Who are your parents?_

_Father? Mum?_

_Who leaves this grown child alone? Why does the cat have a matching personality?_

_Did he clone the cat to look like him?_

_Blasphemy!_

_Who is his brother? Who?_

They wrestled for the chance to be spoken, and the one shouldn't have made it came out.

"How are your parents?" The words came out easily, yet Arthur felt his eyes widen at the phrase. From his side vision, Arthur saw the other's hands tighten.

"I am super-duper hungry! Let's go to Toni's place!" Alfred sprung up, jogging back over to the bike.

_I see. Something that bothers the Idiot. I must ask again later_... Arthur gave a quick glance at the happy families, and got up to leave. After I pay back this bloke, I promise to have a better family then I received.

"Coming?" The shout brought him back to his senses; consequently, Alfred was starting the bike without him. "WAIT!" The Briton responded louder, sprinting back over.

They reached the café soon enough, already covered in strands of evergreen for the holidays on the windows. It wasn't busy, given were there was two people to ran it. Alfred picked the bar seats, for the full intention of watching the argument ensuing between the coworkers. One sounded like he was cursing in a Latin language at the taller man, but the other didn't seem fazed by it.

"Alfréd!" The Spanish accent emphasized the e, and from the chatting on the ride back Arthur assumed this was 'Tonoi'. The Spaniard had the olive tone skin, and the food's color for eyes. The build was sizeable, enough for a battle. He smiled big, while his counterpart frowned. The smaller man stood behind the Spaniard, with some what messy hair, and a long curl from the head. The scowl appear to be unmoveable from the lips, and attempting to ignore his 'friend'.

"Tonio!" The American shook his hand without a second thought, and brought him into a hug from across the counter.

"Bastard doesn't know how to fuckin' talk to people.." Were some of the sentences from the Italian, (Alfred doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut!) mainly in a lower tone. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man with the curl. Even he himself didn't hate the man that much...sometimes….well….most of the time…The Briton took the seat to the left, already taking in information for an escape route.

"What will it be today, the usual?" Toni asked, and an ever present smile on his face.

"5 burgers, 4 slices of cheese, hold the lettuce but not the tomato, ketchup and mustard as smile and 2 pickles for the eyes?" The words came out quick, out of repetitive use. Alfred smiled bigger, the man knew it by heart.

"Lovi, can you turn on the stove?"

'Lovi' gave the Spainard an odd look. "YOU DON'T DO THAT IN PUBLIC!" He stormed off, leaving the trio rather confused. It was just turning on the stove..?

Arthur was the first to get it. He instantly face palmed, and slowly began to chuckle. Alfred stared in confusion, then after a couple minutes Toni caught the play on words. The American still didn't get it. "Please! Please! Teeeell me!"

Arthur and Toni made eye contact once more, keeping straight faces. The Spaniard lost the battle, cracking a smile. "Lovino! Come back! I'll turn on the stove!" He shouted behind him, turning to face the doorway into the worker's lounge.

A loud 'Horny Bastard' came past the wall, making Arthur chuckle again. The Spaniard went back for the other, leaving the monolingual English speakers alone.

"Pssst, Artie! Let's cook! And you have to explain to me 'turning on the stove'!" The American whispered harshly, swinging his legs over counter. He checked that Toni if was going to come back anytime soon. A couple sounds said otherwise. Arthur gave a couple protests on how this was a horrible idea.

"Alfred! Get back here! What if you do something stupid!" The Briton checked if anyone was coming down the hallway, and blushed lightly after a couple moments. He took the proper way, walking to the end and getting to the front.

"I am the hero! And this can't be too hard!" Alfred was already pulling out a couple slaps on the meat, and turning on the stove without any problems. After all, they were in a public place.

He put some (half the stick) of butter to start, causing Arthur to pull back in horror. "Idiot!" The Briton shoved Alfred aside, taking the spatula with him.

"Hey Hey!" The American sat on the floor, hands raised up like he was going to get arrested, yet he was somewhat smiling.

The meat was not changing colors fast enough, it still had the pinky-raw color. Arthur spun the knob rapidly, 500 instead of 350. He wasn't paying attention to the fact it was a gas grill..

"Hey! Alfréd!" The Spaniard shouted, with amazing timing, great time to turn the corner.

Arthur leaned in slightly, inspecting the burger with his right eye, mainly his eyebrow above the stove top.

The mild flames when Tonio left were nothing compared to the ones licking the spice cabinet about 4 feet above it.

"Bastard! Where the fu- I TOLD YOU THAT FUCKEN BRITISH PEOPLE ARE FUCKEN ASSHOLES!" Lovi 'announced' to his coworker, whom wasn't currently moving out of shock.

The fired didn't damage anything; however, it was currently off because the emergency gas kicked in.

Alfred couldn't help but laugh. When Arthur turned to scold him it worsen the situaion.

The left side of the Brit's face still had the creamy skin, and a full eyebrow. The right side..made Alfred burst into a giggle fit. It was covered in ash, like someone sprayed it on him, the eyebrow...appeared to be partly taken off his face. All that remained was the outer, upper edge (which had a little spark on it's own).

"MI CONCINA!" Tonio cried, "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! YOU LITTLE IDIOTS! NEVER COME FUCKEN BACK!" Which over comed the Spanard's voice, Lovi pointed at the door.

Arthur whipped around to make a comment but Alfred had in his hands an angry Brit. He dragged the other outside by the collar, growling curses of his own, He just got kicked out of the best shop in town!

The British man fought under the clamp made by Alfred, kicking, yelling profanities and making accusations to curse him to death.

Alfred had the right mind to top Arthur's screaming but were soon silenced by another idiot in the streets.

"HAVE YOU SEEN MY VIRGINITY? VE! I MISS HER!" The shouting came across the street, from a man who looked a lot like 'Lovi' with a blonde built man after him. The Brunette appeared in tears, and his arms flailing. The male behind him had a much thicker accent, with a glare about to kill the other.

People did double takes after each shout, and another phase came after each one.

"THE DOG'S NAME IS VIRGINITY! PLEASE GO BACK TO WHAT EVER YOU MAY BE DOING!" The Blonde spoke louder, disappearing around the corner as the Italian did so.

It took about 5 seconds before Lovi came out, screaming about a 'Potato Bastard corrupted his brother'.

Which soon caused Alfred to go into hysterics, and the Briton chuckling.

They stayed in place, Arthur scrubbing his face to get rid of the soot.

"C'mon," He couldn't stop laughing, "Let's go to the movies! You can't burn anything there!"

"My cooking is rather delicious, mind you!" The Briton shot back, patting down his clothing for any dirt. "I will not go to the movies with you!"

Arthur fought valiantly but no one is a match against the 'Bridal-Carry of Doom'. He gave half-assed insults, but none went past Alfred's thick skull.

They entered the Movie plaza in the same position, the American not reading the protests the smaller gave. Not on the movie choices, what he wanted on the popcorn, or if he wanted to be let down.

The movie of tonight's choice was an soon to be American classic- Happy Feet 2! (AN: I haven't seen the movie, so bear with me!)

Arthur was placed gently into a seat in the back, and Alfred took the seat beside him, snatching the popcorn off the Brit's lap.

The movie began, telling the crowd to simmer down, and a witty commercial saying turn off your phone. Alfred obeyed, and Arthur felt the utter boringness of American films.

Those two hours consisted of happy laughs, prolong sobbing and the loud munching of popcorn becoming energy.

From the same person.

Who was sitting next to Arthur.

When the crying began, the Brit pinched his nose tightly, leaning away from the body next to him. Less the people associated the two together the better.

Half way through the movie, (it hadn't reached the 'sad' part yet) Alfred decided to stretch. The stretch that involves moving your arms above your head, then slowly bring them down behind you.

Arthur didn't mind him stretching but he knew the standard 'I'm trying to flirt with you move'. Maybe if it was anyone but Alfred. He made a comment about the movement. With the straightest face possible, he spoke it. "If," Arthur corrected himself, "When you try that again, expect your arm to be ripped in half while you sleep. And your cat will eat it."

Alfred brought the hand to his chest, and hugged it. "Meany!"

They left the way they came, but this time Arthur was the dignity to cover his face.

And that is how one loses their Virginity.

* * *

><p>I hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter~! I planned to put in more..but a writer's block jumped in front of me. ;;<p>

There is an Easter egg in this chapter; it will change their relationship completely~ if you guess...hmmn. I'll write a fic of your choice? And you win pancakes! Lots of pancakes =7=

Did anyone notice in the first chap how the amount for Artie was $79,000? Like…1779? Trolololo~

Did this chapter make you guys smile?

Message me if you want to know about some things~

Would you guys mind if I tossed in some FrUK? Or a neko!USUK chapter?

Is anyone willing to beta this story for me? My friend whom usually does this doesn't like yaoi..so please? And does anyone here want to? RP? I am leaving major RP circuit…and I miss it already..;;

Reviews are love~

Baby, I can't stay...but it's cold outside….~


	4. Tree House Adventures

**Lol no, I don't own Hetalia.**

õ.õ~ ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ~õ.õ

One would think after many years of life they would have more common sense then this American.

However, in this day and age, and having enough money to bath yourself in, doesn't mean it comes to you.

_How can he think I would want to listen to this crating under my ears._

"Isn't this awesome? Did you hear how high his voice went?" Was someone the phrases that bounced against the Brit's skull. Alfred locked into the room by bribing him with tea.

"Ole, fellow! I found some tea!" The American would mimic, the American accent stronger than the other.

British Gentleman do not listen to 'Baby' by Justin Bieber optionally.

American Idiots do.

Especially the one he was currently living with.

By the second verse, the only thing stopping Arthur from flinging the stereo system was the ring of the doorbell.

The clock read 5:06 PM, and on the dot.

"Come on Artie! It's Matty!" Alfred echoed, dragging Arthur to the door which in turn causing the Brit to roll on the floor. He stopped to unlock the grand doors in front of them, Arthur crossed legged on the floor to clean his clothes.

A patterned knock repeated itself in a more rushed manor, "I'm coming, jeeze!"

The door swung open to reveal a shivering pair. A man almost identical to Alfred, head to toe, but with a purpler shade of eye color. He didn't shake despite the cold. The man had a red and white scarf around his neck, and a thick coat and pants.

Arthur knew who the other male was. The person he meet on his homeless adventure, the Frenchman who likes to wear his hair a little above shoulder length, and claimed he could give 'l'amour to Arthur if he ever needed help in that area.

"Alfred, why did yo-" Arthur felt his blood go cold, he pulled together his eyebrows together. "Frog, get off the property before I beat your French arse to death."

The brothers stared at each other in confusion. Alfred thought it was funny, but his brother's thoughts were the opposite.

"Whoa! Artie, that's a little.." Alfred paused for a moment, a little dumbstruck. "Mean? It's the New Year!"

"Let me correct myself. I'll hang you with the wire if you touch me. Then I'll stick the snow so far up your arse-" Arthur folded his arms across his scrawny chest, tapping his loafers impaintently.

"I REALLY THINK ITS COLD OUTSIDE." The non-Frenchman interjected, shuffling inside the warm house.

"Mattie!" Alfred tackled his sibling to the floor while the Frenchman hanged their coats into the closet.

"Francis," He utter the words in disgust, eyeing the siblings wrestle on the carpet. "Why the hell did you come?" Arthur commented in low tones, trying to avoid integration by the American later.

"Mattiew, quite the homme charmant .. peut-être gagné mon cœur." [Charming man..might have won my heart.] He switched to French to speak his more personal comments. Francis didn't want a punch to the face so early in the evening.

With a chuckled he finished what was said. It was not meant to be heard by other ears then his own, "Bien sûr, vous semblez éviter le fait que l'amour est dans l'air." [Of course, you seem to avoid the fact that love is in the air.]

"Stop talking in French! Blood hell! I don't understand why the fuck you speak such an ugly language! What about love? YOU BETTER NOT BE PLOTTING SOMETHING!" The Briton responded and faced the man in question.

Unknown to the Europeans, two pairs of North American eyes watched the two men bicker. They were trapped in a lock which needed outside help to free them.

Arthur made the mouthing to start another string of curses; however, he was stopped when Francis raised the Brit's chin. He gave him a peck on the lips to silence the man. (It worked, which Francis would comment in later years of how he got the scar in his stomach, 'It was for the price of l'amour!')

Alfred could feel his blood beat against his veins at the sight of that, and becoming hotter for a battle.

_I want the cat to eat his face._

Matthew could say the same, if was asked the right questions. They untangled their limbs faster, to defend the people they bought a couple weeks ago.

Arthur flushed, and began to beat the French idiot. Matthew pulled him off to save the poor man's face, and gave a prayer before Alfred gave a right hook to Francis' chin.

"Touch him and die!" Alfred shouted, Artie was his property! He paid for him and everything! So, with that in mind, Alfred forced the Brit into his grasps.

Francis stared wide eyed at the English speakers an broke into his unforgettable, 'Ohonhonhonhon' chuckle.

The others stared in misbelief, stepping slowly away from the crazed man.

Alfred took Matthew along with him into the kitchen (Arthur couldn't move in the first place, much less try to escape), Francis not too far behind, wiggling his brows in eagerness.

On the back wall was a long line of dark wooden cabinets, a sink in the middle while having a simple window above it. A couple spaces to the left was the stove. A foot away was the double decker ovens. The stainless steel fridge to the left of the entrance they were coming through. A small island in the middle of it all, and a white wall containing a single door opposite of the main attractions. The bar diving the living room and kitchen measured about 5 feet from the last appliance.

They passed the safe line, and the Brit's brain kicked back in to slam the door on the Frenchman. Pleas like _'Let Big Brother help you'_ or '_Polar Bear, I know you want to be with me!'_ came through the divider.

"Mattie! That psychco tried to, to, touch you!" Alfred stuttered out, shaking his brother because of the man behind the door. Arthur stomped on the man's fingers when they tried to wiggle past the sliver in the door frame.

Like any good brother, Alfred was clueless to his brother saying that he didn't want to go. The poor Canadian never got acknowledged by anyone till the Frenchman came into his life.

"Al-Alfred, please making him stop. He is hurting Francis!" Matthew spoke strongly despite his usual door mat personality. "Make him stop!"

Alfred peered over his sibling's shoulder, "What have you done to my brother?" He stretchy the left ear lobe, "Mattie? Are in there?" He shouted, cupping his hands over to make sure the real Matt could hear him.

"ALFRED! I AM YOUR BROTHER! YOU USED TO EAT BURGERS EVERY MORNING! YOU EVEN WOULD BATHE IN KETCHUP! YOU ASKED OUT ALICE IN SECOND GRADE BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT THAT WHEN GIRLS GROUP TOGETHER TO ATTACK YOU FOR A DEATH MATCH WITH STRAWS AS A SIGN THAT THEY LIKE YOU!"

Matthew panted after the outburst, Hero hiding behind the Brit for sheer life. His owner stood there with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"Artie,"

"That's not my name!" Arthur hissed.

"Artie, you heard my bro." Alfred waved at him to open it, and a couple curses were muttered in defeat when the door opened.

The Europeans started a death glare battle, but it ended when Matthew peeked over the edge to prepare dinner with Alfred. Francis rushed past his opponent, and started to peck kisses on any open skin of Mattie's because openly affectionate touches in public were great for starting problems.

"DON'T TOUCH MY BRO-BRO LIKE THAT!"

Alfred waved the 8-inch, stainless steel, kitchen knife at the Frenchman. It was moving closer to the man's throat. Arthur appear to be grinning while leaning on the sink. Maybe Alfred could do that job for him.

The papers would read; _'Death of homeless man while trying to assault a rich idiot'_.

"Ma, les Américains sont aussi rudes que disent-ils. Allez petit garçon, laissez la cuisson pour les adultes." [My, Americans are as rude as they say. Go little boy, leave the cooking to the adults.] Francis coolly responded, not fazed by the sharp object. He turned back to cuddle Mattie, but the Brother's glare killed any 'mood'.

Alfred didn't put back the knife. He made a back and forth movement, as to separate. Matthew complied easily, while Francis clutched his chest and moved behind the island cut board.

"Why must you kill my 'l'amour'? Even if you have problems with it, let me help you! I am the l'amour doctor!" The Frenchman eyes widened, a new target! (He might have gotten away with it, if Arthur didn't punch him in the face, if Alfred didn't try to attack him with the knife, nor If Matthew didn't pull him away after they were done 'discussing'.)

Matthew shot the mainly English speakers a death glare while hauling his adopted Frenchman onto the couch.

He stomped his way back, the white of his fist showing because the anger.

"Out. Out. OUT. I don't care if already you were cooking the food. OUT ALFRED FERDRICK JONES, AND ARTHUR KIRKLAND OUUUUUUUT!"

Matthew pointed to the doors into the frozen abyss of called the backyard, the expression on Matt saying 'I'll make sure you never reproduce again, much less /walk/'.

Alfred forced Arthur out first despite his (very hard, not that Alfred would admit it) fists straight to his back. The freezing temperature outside made them shiver instantly.

"You idiot! Look what you have done!" Arthur spatted out, his arm shaking towards the window.

Matthew smirked as he strolled to the door, crossing his arms at the sight. He locked the double doors behind them the little devious smirk turning into a cruel grin.

The inside window didn't have any frost yet, the activities happening inside were anything but acceptable.

Matthew shot his brother a glare, the smirk growing larger. He stuffed his hands in the sweater pockets, and lumbered over to the sofa where Francis found some slumber. With one last dementing look (Alfred swore that little horns popped up), Matthew climbed on top of his friend, and leaned down to kiss the Frenchman.

Alfred gained a stern face, Arthur chuckling at their sibling rivalry. "MATTIE! DON'T YOU START!" He almost started the banging of the window again.

The only sign that 'Mattie' heard his brother was the wag of butt towards the window before allowing Francis to switch their positions.

Arthur pulled his eyebrows tight together at the sight. When Francis smelled the chance of 'l'amour' all chances of stopping him were very low. Those memories of when the Frog was in that mood could make any grown man shudder.

The American currently was using his strength to plow down the door, screaming at his brother's actions.

"MATTIE! EW! I DIDN'T KNO- EEWWWW!"

By now Alfred ducked around to cover Arthur's eyes as if that could stop the 'events' happening inside. Hero sat in front of the window, like before; Arthur swore the cat was grinning. The Brit flailed, limbs flying trying to unlatch the American beast. "LET THE BLOODY GO!" was the current swear word of the month.

"DUDE, IT'S TOOO EW. OH GOD, MATTIE! MY EYES! MY-MY CAT'S EYES! HERO USE COCKBLOCK!" Alfred pointed at the scene behind the cat, yet found the outside events more entertaining.

" I GOTTA SAVE YOU! ARTIE!"

"THAT'S NOT MY FUCKEN NAME! ARTHUR KIRKLAND! GODDAMNIT!"

"BRITISH DUDE, COME ON! YOU'RE THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS HERE!" The American (epically, heroes don't do graceful) draped the Brit over his right shoulder.

Leaping over snow and wind, facing the elements- and a British man's wrath of finely chosen of sailor curses. Alfred climbed up the tree connecting to the tree, ignoring obliviously to the pounding Briton on his backside. He whistled at it all, 'The snow looks very shiny tonight', but the temperature kicked into his bones, shooting him up to the top.

The tree house went under a warmth conversion, most of the open areas covered up. Alfred's games were moved into the house, replaced by a small little heater. It was cold inside, but undoubtedly warmer by 40 degrees then the frozen tundra they were left in. For emergencies, a couple warm blankets and a mini fridge stayed up there, along with a couple board games and kids toys.

Alfred tossed Arthur across the room, and quickly shutting the hatch behind them. The smaller of the two made an attempt to climb into the hump of sheets and pillows on the opposite end.

"YOU STUPID BLOKE!" Arthur started off already. This idiot made them freeze their arses to death because he wanted to prove his 'hero-ness'. "WE ARE IN THIS MESS BECAUSE OF YOU!" He shakily pointed at Alfred, shaking because of the lack of heat.

"OH, REALLY. BECAUSE YOU ARE JUST AS BAD!" Alfred could list the things this guy did to piss him off. All he wanted was tea, a good book, and he expected to cook! After a first night how could anyone want to relive a tragic experience that sent other's into wanting to remove his tongue?

The lanker body allowed the American to cross the room in fewer strides, and jumping into the pile of cloth and British guy named Arthur.

"Find your own goddamn spot!" He pulled the covers tight to his face, the thick eyebrows serving as a forehead warmer.

Alfred would have made a comment about the lack of 'spots' but stopped for a moment. The guy's eyebrows were HUGE. _Dude, don't get me started, they could be used to replace 'yo mama' jokes._ He could already he the starting of one, '_Yo mama's eyebrows are so big,_' He would have to make the pause for emphases, it doesn't work without that pause gurl. _'The astronauts could see them from space and call them New Eyebrowope!_' The crowd would roar in his ears, and the bad guy trembling by the dis.

He came back to semi present to take a better look at those unmovable caterpillars that found their way to this man's face.

He was in mid process of grabbing blankets for himself, but instead leaned down to take a closer look. They scouted back, pulling together to bump heads. Alfred felt the need to seperate them.

_They shouldn't be kissing at such a young age! Stupid caterpillars!_

Arthur held his breathe throughout this horrid event. First the Cat who enjoys to stare into the depths of his soul- Now the prat who has more money than Arthur's worth has a common past time! Those eyes seemed stronger in a human body, the never ending pools of blues between the thin lenses. They could see the type of person he was- is- if they wanted too, a couple long stares could do it. Arthur pushed away from the American, _Personal space must be maintained!_. A couple inches; however, Alfred continued to move closer.

Arthur's heart stopped when he caught sight of Alfred's fingers. _What is he going to do, what is he going to do?_

_Aw, stupid caterpillies! Come back here! Do you guys like each other?_

The furry things came closer, and closer together. Which only caused Alfred lean in further, if he was paying attention he could feel Arthur's breathe.

_Stop moving away! Stupid caterpillies!_

He sat statue like, breathes even more minor. Arthur would have lashed out early, but the strength in that American's arms were worth at least 5 men.

"BLOODY!"

The small little cat clawed its way passed Arthur's clothing and skin.

"FUCK!" Once past the Brit's defenses, the feline took the chance to 'redesign' some features on the American's face.

Grabbing a couple blankets out of haste, Arthur sprinted (read: crawled) across the room. In the meantime, Alfred was yanking the cat off his forehead, it's nails skin very deep in his forehead.

It flew back into the clump of blankets, hissing while Alfred took the dash to Arthur's fort. Panting, and double checking that the enemy stayed in place. It shot daggers at them, circled around to resume sleep position.

Arthur's first instinct was to push Alfred out of the tree house and let him tumble to his death, but then he wouldn't have anyone rescue him from the snow! "The bloody hell was that about?" The Brit check the cat didn't make a movement- which it didn't. 

_Who would have thought such a cute thing would have such sharp nails?_ Alfred thought. The cat had folded ears and orange spots on its fur were barely visible by the amount of blankets on top of it.

"The cat attacking me and making feel like Mufusa? Why would anyone want to look like Mufusa?" Alfred shot back, still checking that it didn't move. He took a couple shuffles behind Arthur to grab a couple kids toys.

"What is a 'Mufusa'? What are you doing! Why did you try to kiss me?" Arthur questioned back, his anger growing by each improper and unanswered question. _'What the hell is a Mufusa?_'

Alfred mutter some nonsense about caterpillies on his face and focused on the items in front of him. All he had was paper, crayons, dinosaurs, toy cars, and duct tape. _Maybe if I did..this!_

The end result was a dinosaur taped to the top of a toy car, holding a paper reading something.

Arthur dead paned. "What the hell is that?"

"The way we can get the warm back!" Alfred responded. He picked up the remote to the car, going slow as possible to not wake the sleeping creature whom was on top of all the possible warmth. Switching positions to get a better view of how to avoid things, he sat straight while crossing his legs indian style.

"So, What was you gunna ask me?"

Arthur twinged at the misuse of English language. "Why the fuckery were you trying to snog me?" Along with the driver, he was watching the little car driving back and forth in the middle of the floor.

"DUDE, I don't speak British! American and internet memes are the only things I understand!"

The Brit face palmed. "American…British..this generation is going to be the death of me.." Sighing, he rephrased his sentenced for the simpler minded. "Why did you try to kiss me?"

The moving dino stopped before the cat.

"Ewwy! You're an old british guy! You're as sexy as John McCain!" Alfred made the '_Why the fuck is there cat hair in my tooth brush'_ face.

The comments were a blow to anyone's ego, but Arthur had the right to prove his opinion wrong. "I have been told that my eyebrows are adorable in fact. And I had pretty handsome lovers when I was younger!"

Alfred giggled, really? He had 'lovers'? "Does that mean that the cat can date you? 'Cus he _really_ seems to like you!"

"I WILL NOT DATE HERO!" Arthur had enough! That cat just seems to like his eyebrows.

The cat across the room awoke, and ripped the nearest thing to pieces. Alfred let out a small whine_, Not the Pikachu blanket!_ Then the thing attacked the dinosaur's peace offering before climbing back to sleep.

"Bloke, what did that paper say anyway?" The car sped back to home base for a revision of plans.

"Get off the blankets, or I attack Japan." Alfred snickered; those movies were funny for their lack of quality. Arthur stared at the poor child's toy, and face palmed at 'attack Japan'. "I bet you couldn't even get a woman, Jones."

"Please, women aren't my type. I don't play for that team." The American replied smoothly, knowing a couple buttons to push to send the British man into haywire. The past couple weeks were great, he discovered so many things that could bother Artie! What an awesome game it was!

Arthur choked on air, _Alfred was gay! "_W-what?"

"Ya heard me, I like those gay bacon strips on my skittles!"

"Speak proper English!" _What is a gay bacon strip? Does it like to hump other strips? But how do you know if both are males…?_

"Yea man, I like guys. Girls are annoying."_ What is wrong with Artie? Is he homophobic?_

"Amusing how we are both grown men trapped in a tree house, yet we both happen to be gay.." Arthur trailed off, having eyes for the cat while having a blush travel up his cheeks. _This changes things._

"If you think that I wanna to screw you, I like screwing with you, Cradle robber!"

Alfred thought he wanted to _sleep_ with him? _He is too fat to even see his own feet._ "You couldn't pick me up."

Alfred was going to save his best pick up line for last- it always worked!

"Baby, I put the STD in stud," He paused making his face as sexy as it possible to give Arthur a true taste of his picking up skills. "All I need is U."

Arthur was more than dumbfounded, causing his jaw to drop slightly. _No wonder a rich man like him is single, but bimbos don't need brains to compete with… _"Thank the queen you can't reproduce that stupidity."

"Hey, Hey, Hey! I majored in Chemistry!" Alfred shot back.

"Ch-chemistry?" The Brit croaked; the subject was nearly impossible to look at without getting a migraine.

"Yea! I know how to get the cat! My pick up skills are pretty epic!" He got up from the fort, and approached the slumbering feline. Alfred sat down in front of it, stroking gently. The grin that broke out on the man's face told Arthur the cat was purring. A couple minutes passed, for it was already taking up Alfred's lap stretching farther to allow more scratching.

The Brit carefully (read: fearfully) came closer to the feline, "He's like you, bro. Meany on the outside, but a butter ball in the inside!" Alfred cooed, "Isn't that right, Big Ben?"

'Big Ben' hissed at either the name, or Arthur which caused Alfred to laugh. "Bad Kitty! Then you will be called-"

"_Mofusa_," Arthur drawled, were they really going through this conversation? He sighed, getting under the covers. "Is not coming back with us! That is it! Come under here so you don't freeze to death!"

It hissed again, name or Arthur not helping things. "He could be a friend for Hero! Plus his name is Camelot!" Alfred climbed in too, hugging the cat instead of Arthur for more heat. "He's nicer than you!"

"Sod off and go to sleep already!"

õ.õ~ ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ~õ.õ

"I give it 20 minutes before they come back." Matthew muttered, trying to put back his clothing they 'dropped'.

"10, _Rosbif_ will make sure they get some heat." Francis pulled him close, resting his head on the other's shoulder. "A month before they make love."

"4. Alfred understands only his stomach."

"3."

"5, Arthur isn't the type to accept feelings."

"I didn't spend 6 months with him for nothing after all."

õ.õ~ ───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ──── ~õ.õ

I finished this chapter listening to 'Da ya think I'm sexy' by Rod Stewart. _What is wrong with me._ Thank you to all of you guys who added this to their updates lists!

While I am at it, I'll explain how Artie here was allowed to go home with Alfred. Before the 'auction' the people had to sign a waiver saying that they would take care of people who they took home. They even had people come out to make sure they were suitable to come to it. The homeless people take the option to be taken home also go through multiple tests to make sure that they are stable and such. The money would be used to pay for the debts they may have earned in their lives, or was to provide services to other homeless people.

That sounds like BS, but it's all I got to explain this story. Never had an idea to even have continue it.

You guys most likely hate me. But school has been a real pain in the tush. Maybe I'll update again around National Make Fun of Single people day (Feb 14, if you didn't get it). Hope you guys liked this chapter at least.

Sorry about the last post around Christmas week. I know I screwed up there…so no actual emotions about things till..-checks plot line doc- um. I think the 10th chap or so? Anyway happy late holidays, and Martin Luther King day! :D (If you're American that is)

Reviews make my day~ I think it makes me write faster too :/


	5. You guys are going to hate me

**January 29, 2012**

_Author's Note: _

I sadly do not have the urge to complete this story. It's been a while...but I can't do it. If you want to continue this story, then message me. I'll give you the plot line for it. You don't have to follow it, but credit me if you decide to go on with it.

-Penguino


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